


all the best distractions

by fuzzy_paint



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:50:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzy_paint/pseuds/fuzzy_paint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've found a rhythm when they share Jane's lab, Jane with her science and Thor with his own work, and though it is easy to be distracted by each other, usually they're both very capable of avoiding such things. </p>
<p>Usually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the best distractions

**Author's Note:**

> A plot attempted, but I said no. Just porn guys. Just porn. 
> 
> Unbetad, all mistakes are mine.

The first time he looks up and catches Jane's eyes, Thor thinks little of it. They share a table in her lab more often than not. She sorts through numbers and reconciles data and searches for more practical ways to test and prove her theories and he reviews his mission reports or continues his research into the Midgardians or reads his missives from Asgard. He may have abdicated the throne, but he finds he remains attached to the realm by more than just the bonds of friendship. 

The second time, mere minutes later, he lingers longer than necessary to share a smile. 

"You are distracted," he says, watching as she pushes her holograms in the space between them. It is a simply Asgardian database, one he gifted to Jane after he'd visited his mother-realm, but where she normally works with purpose and dedication, she seems more aimless than usual. She looks more at him than she does at her work. 

"I," Jane says. "Yeah, a little." 

"Are you hungry? I can retrieve some sustenance for you-" 

There is a deli that they both enjoy only a ten minute walk down the street - he could be there sooner if he flew, if Jane needed it sooner. Or… he sorts through what he knows is in the refrigerator and the cabinets. Neither have been restocked in some time, so it might take some creativity, but he finds he enjoys such a challenge more than he'd ever expected before. 

"Thor," she says, and he looks at her. He looks again, closer this time. 

She bites her lip, but that does not stop the grin that spreads across her face. She ducks her head, but not enough to break his gaze, and heat settles low in his belly, as welcoming the arousal that follows. 

He grins, and she catches her giggle with her hand. 

"Well," he says. "I can certainly offer you aid with that." 

He sets aside his tablet with care - it continues to baffle him that mortals are capable of such strength and yet do not build their tools to reflect that - and by the time he looks up again, Jane has already closed out her work, collapsing the Asgardian database, and is rounding the corner of the table. He knows the look on her face, and he stands so abruptly his hip bumps the table. It skids a few inches, and Jane slows, startled. He approaches her with deliberate care. He would gladly - and has gladly - give chase for the surprisingly universal game of Tag - though that is not what it is called on Asgard - but finds he is suddenly too hungry for other things. 

Jane lets him approach, cheeks gone bright pink, and if she keeps biting her lip like that, he will most certainly have to soothe it with his tongue. He will do it anyway, he decides between one step and the next, but when he reaches her, he does not kiss her. He puts his hands on her waist, and he backs her up until there is nowhere else for her to go. He presses her against the wall. 

"O-oh," Jane breathes out. It is just a puff of air and not really a proper sound at all. 

He holds himself away from her for a moment even though she does not look as if she wishes to be anywhere else. "Do you desire something different? Whatever you want-" 

Jane curls her hand in his shirt and pulls. She does not have the strength to move him, not if he wishes otherwise, but he rarely wishes otherwise when it is Jane directing him. He bends to kiss her, pressing close, grasping for her shirt, rucking it up. His fingers curl around the hem. His knuckles press up against her side, resting just below her breast. He slots his thumb underneath so it carries the weight of it. 

She arches her back, guiding her chest better into his grasp, and he laughs against her mouth, delighted with her, with her smile, with everything about her. Jane tries to pull him closer, but he backs away to pull off her shirt. He does not linger to savor the sight of her. He might, after, when he has her fully bare, when she shakes from more than just anticipation, but now he wants the scent of her and the taste of her and the feel of her more than anything. Thor nuzzles into her neck, licking the skin there, gratified when Jane giggles. She trembles, inhaling sharply, when he rubs his thumb over the angle of her hip and into the crease of her leg. 

Thor kisses her mouth, her neck, then leaves a perfunctory one against a nipple. He lingers at the other breast, getting it wet, insistent until she moans. Then he slides down her stomach and goes to his knees. He looks up as he drags down her pants. She leans down to steal a kiss, cupping his face and he takes her underwear much slower, holding her gaze as he glides them down her legs. Jane’s flushed, eyes wide and dark. She tugs at his shirt, relentless until he helps her pull it off. 

He curls a hand around the back of her thigh and splays her open wide. He looks up at her with wide eyes and a grin he cannot contain. 

"Yes?" He presses a kiss between her breasts, light and quick and barely there at all. 

Jane curls her fingers in his hair; she pulls. 

Thor laughs. He goes. 

He starts at her belly with kisses, adds his tongue as he meanders lower, and despite his own urgency, he detours to leave just a hint of teeth against her tender thigh. 

"Thor," Jane says, and he grins against her skin. His path continues just as slowly, but less seemingly aimless, until the smell of her drives him to want more, to seek more. But it is the shake in her thighs that distracts him from his own desire. He holds her up, holds her steady as she trembles against his grip. 

Her hands sink into his hair, curling, pressing into his scalp, pulling at the first drag of his tongue. He starts low and climbs up to her clit, pausing to press against it, to lick and suck. He does it again, simply for the taste of her. Mortals taste mostly of themselves here, though he has no other for comparison than Jane, not for a thousand years. Perhaps it is simply because it is Jane that he likes it better than he remembers - he would not find that so surprising. 

He does not take care to be neat or to be quiet, but with each sloppy wet sound, Jane makes noises of her own, low in her throat, in her chest. She bites her lip and pushes her head back against the wall. It pushes her ponytail off center, messy as it comes out of its ties. Some of it falls in her face, obscuring one of her eyes, some of it loose, and some of sticking to her forehead as she begins to sweat. 

She calls out when he pushes her thighs open wider. He has always like how she says his name - in joy or in anger or exasperation. In fondness, most of all, but pleasure follows closely behind. He tilts his head, savoring the rasp of his beard against her curls, her skin, just to get her to say his name again. But Jane tightens her hold in his hair instead. It is a way to keep her hands steady or a way she might use him as leverage that she might get closer to his mouth. It does not hurt - Jane's strength is not the kind that hurts - and he is so hard, his arousal coiling and sharp, ready to strike, that he finds himself blinking and breathing deeply so that he might steady himself; it fails. He is so full of Jane, surrounded by her, that thinking clearly evades him. 

He pushes his tongue as deep as he can. He cannot get enough of her. His hands hold her thighs apart, and her steady enough that she won't topple, but he has enough reach that he can press a thumb against her clit while he lets his mouth meander over the rest of her. She is wet and slick and friction seems impossible to find - though he tries - and his own spit only adds to it so that he simply glides over each part of her, each bump, each dip, each fold of skin.

His cock would slide so easily, so effortlessly against her that his hips roll of their own accord, seeking relief he can only find if he moves. It is an enticing thought - to press against her with more than just mouth and hands, to wet his cock with her slickness, to sink into her again and again and again. And he might taste her mouth instead, if he moved, but as much as the thought pleases him, Thor finds that he is reluctant to stop. He is relentless until she comes, until she cries out and slumps against the wall, staying there with only his hands holding her up. 

He presses a kiss into her with only a hint of tongue, just the barest trace of teeth, simply so she'll shudder some more. He could tease her even more than that, could do so for hours, but Thor pulls away. He breathes against her stomach, slowly turning his head back and forth until she twitches and pushes him away. 

He's unsteady on his feet when he stands; he has to brace himself against the wall to hold himself upright. She is still breathing hard, and his own arousal seeks his attention, but he simply touches Jane's mouth, where she's abused it with her teeth. He is entirely pleased by her dazed expression - as any should be when fulfilling their beloved. He steals a kiss, and leans in for another, but Jane turns her gaze down. 

Her hand starts a lazy journey along his side, over his abdomen, tracing the muscles down until she's plucking at the waistband of his pants, undoing the button and the zip with care. 

She stretches up to kiss him quiet, and she is still too unsteady. Her weight falls against him and he curls an arm around her back, holding her close. She curls her hand around the band, knuckles pressed against his skin. She looks up as her fingers begin to seek, grinning. "Or did you have something else in mind?" 

He laughs, though it wavers when her fingertips brush against his cock. "Whatever you, oh Jane, whatever you wish-" 

"Good," she says, and closes her grip around his cock.


End file.
